Square One
by the.eye.does.not.SEE
Summary: AU ending to 1x10: Ryan doesn't say it back and suffers the consequences after Claire leaves. Parker/Hardy friend(?)ship.


**Rating**: PG

**Pairing**: Claire Matthews/Ryan Hardy

**Characters: **Debra Parker, Ryan Hardy

**Summary: **AU ending to 1x10: Ryan doesn't say it back and suffers the consequences after Claire leaves. Parker/Hardy friend(?)ship.

**Author's Note: **Totally random. I have no idea where this came from. I have a ton of other things I'm working on, but I guess I just wanted to write more of Parker.

. . .

. . .

Claire had been gone for nearly fifteen minutes by the time the EMTs arrived; a half-hour by the time the cavalry finally came. The FBI vans and SUVs filled Tyson's entire driveway and front yard; some even had to park out in the open ground beside the surrounding forest because there were so many. But Ryan supposed that's what happened when a prime witness was abducted. The Bureau couldn't be bothered to protect her properly while she'd been in danger, but once she was gone—_sure, everyone come over to the last place she'd been seen alive! _That'll help.

Ryan stood and watched it all unfold around him, supposing this was what he deserved for failing so miserably. Not only had he gotten Tyson, his best friend for nearly twenty years, shot in the gut, but he'd allowed Claire to run off, too. He had watched the ambulance's lights flash down the wooded private lane a quarter of an hour ago, his mind switching from guilt about Tyson to guilt about Claire as he was left alone with the local cops until the federal agents came. He hated himself for even thinking it, but the truth was that he'd feel better about her disappearance if she'd been dragged off kicking and screaming. At least then he would have someone deserving of the blame to target.

But no. She'd gone willingly. And somehow that was so much worse.

She'd left Tyson, left him, and gone running out to that car and those murderers inside it like they weren't taking her straight to her death.

Ryan shut his eyes, squeezing them tight to dissuade his imagination of coming up with elaborate torture scenes. He'd heard enough of her screams and her sobs that he knew exactly what she'd sound like. Horribly, it did not take much imagination at all.

Furious, frustrated, and hopeless, he clamped hand over his forehead to shield his eyes from the flashing blue-and-red strobe lights of the cops' cars, hoping that cutting off at least just one stimulus would ease the pounding in his head. It hardly helped, and soon he was removing his hand again, surrendering himself as always to what lay ahead.

Debra Parker was standing in front of him when he opened his eyes, looking extremely stern and not at all apologetic for what had happened these past few hours. She met his eye for a cursory second—not even nodding her head to acknowledge what he was going through—before ordering, "Tell me what happened."

He had hoped for a moment of sympathy, of emotion from her, but apparently that was too much to ask. A _How are you holding up? _was too hard, apparently. And while he would have probably brushed her off had she said it, he still would've liked to hear her say something like _I'm sorry about Claire._ But no. She was all-business.

And he had fucked up their business so royally they would probably never be able to recover. He deserved whatever was coming from her.

For the first time, he actually feared what she was going to say to him. He'd never seen her actually lose it before—she was too disciplined for that—but if there was ever a time for her to lash out at him and be justified in doing so, it was now.

Suddenly aware of all the people around them, and the pain in his head only exacerbated by their chatter and police lights, he led her into the house. Past Tyson's blood and broken glass and the crime scene tape and photographers, he led her into one of the back rooms, farthest away from all the noise and the prying eyes and the eavesdropping ears. He was used to the stares at the whispers by now, but this—what had happened before they'd all arrived—he didn't want overheard by anyone else. He had to tell Parker, fine. But he didn't need to have rent-a-cops spreading tales of his failure.

The first part was easy to tell. His and Claire's flee from the hotel where she'd been kept under Bureau protection was easy to recount. There had been guns and running and screaming, but nothing painful to talk about. They'd both gotten out of there alive, and as they'd driven across state lines, it had even seemed like they hadn't been followed and they'd be okay.

For hours it seemed like that, and so he'd taken her to the safest place he knew—Tyson's remote house in the backwoods of Pennsylvania. He'd only been there once in the last five years, and it had been hard—but not impossible—to find. That should have been a marker, right there. It wasn't _impossible_ to find, so it was a sure bet Joe's people _would _find it.

And they did.

It hadn't helped that that one gunman had managed to place a GPS locator on Claire's sweater when he'd grabbed her—but that only expedited the process. They would've found her eventually. They'd always find her.

Recounting what had happened with Tyson was harder, but not unbearable. He was on his way to the hospital now, and that shot to the gut, Ryan had been told, wouldn't kill him if he got immediate medical treatment.

Ryan lingered on Tyson, though, trying to come up with a way to cover up what else had happened. He told himself enough times in the past hour that no one needed to know what she'd said to him—nor what he'd failed to say back—and so when he got to that part, he simply… pretended it hadn't happened. He told Parker what she needed to know—that they'd been hunted like dogs, and smoked out like foxes—and glossed over the end. All that mattered was that Claire was gone; the details of her disappearance wouldn't help them find her.

But they mattered to Parker, and Ryan almost groaned aloud when she asked for further explanation.

"I don't get it," she finally said, when his account petered off. "Why'd she run off like that? Why'd she go willingly? What could she have possibly gained from leaving with them?"

"I…" Ryan hesitated. He'd been so determined to hide what had actually happened that he hadn't invented a proper cover story in time. "I guess she wanted to be with Joey," he answered lamely.

As he'd both feared and expected, Parker jumped on his half-hearted response. She puzzled it out aloud, pacing about the room as she did so: "But that doesn't make any sense. How did she know they had Joey? How did she know she know those men would take her right to him? She wouldn't have gone if she hadn't known all that for sure."

"I guess she thought about it," Ryan replied, "and she made her best call."

"But she isn't that reckless," Parker insisted, and Ryan bit his tongue he wouldn't agree. It was true; while Claire would certainly do anything to get Joey back safe and sound, she was _not _reckless with her own life—not while her son's was still on the line. "I know she was under a lot of pressure, she was scared, but… She wouldn't be so naïve as to think they'd actually _take her _to her son. She would've known they'd take her straight to Carroll. Why would she ever run off to that? What would make her do that? That's just—it's just _stupid,_" Parker finally landed on, throwing up her hands."And she's _not_ stupid. This makes it seem like she wasn't thinking at all."

Parker was speaking aloud to the room, talking aloud to facilitate her own reasoning, but Ryan couldn't help but feel like her questions were directed at him, and he couldn't help himself from shying away from them. First he just stayed silent, but as the questions increased and became more pointed, he had to look away, and finally turn away. He could hear Claire's voice in his head, taunting, _What? Can't own up to what you've done? My, how you've changed over the years._

It took Parker not more than a couple of seconds to catch on. She zeroed in on him with those dark, concerned eyes like a hawk after its prey. "Ryan…" She approached him as warily as she said his name—like he might snap at any moment. "What aren't you telling me about her?"

He shook his head, not wanting to answer, and continued inching away. He'd promised himself when Claire had left that no one needed to know what really happened. He hadn't even told Tyson.

"What aren't you telling me, Hardy?"

Parker was getting angry—he could hear it in her voice—but more than that, he knew she was scared of what he was hiding. And he knew he had to tell the truth if she was ever going to let it go.

"It… It was my fault she ran off," he finally forced out. "She was... She was upset, so she left."

"Well, of course she was upset! Her son—"

"I don't mean about Joey. I..." He trailed off, clamming up. He couldn't meet Parker's eyes, even as she leaned over to stare the truth out of him.

"Hardy, what happened before I got here?" Parker asked. When he still didn't look at her, she raised her voice and demanded, "Tell me what happened between you two."

"Nothing," Ryan muttered at once. When he finally lifted his head to shrug her off, he was met with that steady dark gaze of hers, and he knew there would be no getting out of this. She'd drag him off to an interrogation room before she ever let it slide. He knew it was better to admit it here, alone, than be forced into a little room with a camera and an audience. "She said she loved me." The words were out then, finally—the hidden moment made public—and while he had barely been able to speak them before, now he couldn't stop. "They had just showed up, Joe's people, they were surrounding the house… Tyson was in the garage, setting traps, and I came back to check on her—I'd told her to stay in the back corner of the house—and she just…" He broke off, shaking his head. He could still hardly believe she initiated that conversation, at _that _moment. "She started talking to me," he continued, "about what had happened between us—all those years ago—like we had all the time in the world to waste and weren't about to be killed. Like we had time for a long-winded conversation. I tried to stop her, but she wasn't taking no for an answer… She wanted to know why I never called her back after I left, why I never saw her again… I told her why, I told her it was because I wanted her to move on; I knew if I stayed with her, I wouldn't do anything except remind her of Joe and hold her back, and—and she thought about that for a second, after I said it… And then she just looked up at me and asked if I'd still think that way about us if she told me that she was in love with me. She just said it, just… just like that."

Where he had previously been speaking very quickly—almost too fast for Parker to follow along—here he faltered, and broke off. It didn't taken Parker long to figure out why he didn't want to continue.

"You didn't say it back," she concluded for him, succinct and professional as always. "You rejected her and so she ran off, thinking that if you didn't want anything to do with her, the best she could do now was go with these people that promised to give her her son. Take happiness where you can find it." No coddling, no comforting. No observance of the private sphere. Just the bare facts.

Part of him was grateful for her impersonality, for the detachment; part of him wanted to curse her out, wanted to demand she show some emotion. What in the world would it take to make her feel something? He knew he was a hypocrite for asking, but he couldn't help himself.

"It wasn't like that," he muttered, unable to hold it in, unable to keep lying. "I… I wanted to say it, I did, but I..." When he closed his eyes, he could see Claire's eyes pleading with him. _Just four words, _they begged. _Just tell __me you love me too. _"I just couldn't say it. Not with Joey gone, not with Joe out there… Not with those murderers bearing down on us. It wasn't… It wasn't _right._"

"Huh, so that matters to you," Parker concluded, sounding oddly surprised. "I thought you and her were already…" She trailed off suggestively, in a tone that spelled out what she didn't bother wasting her breath saying. But when he glared over at her for the insinuation, she actually blushed with embarrassment, and quickly averted her eyes from his. "Sorry," she murmured, turning away. "I just expected you two to have—never mind. Sorry, again. Sometimes I don't have a filter for this kind of stuff. I thought you and her were kind of already… Never mind. I'll go, leave you for a bit."

She was heading to the door, saying she'd see him outside when he was ready, when he called out to her, desperate now for an opinion from this unfiltered version of her that he knew would tell the truth:

"You ever say it? Tell someone you love them?"

Parker stopped walking as abruptly as if he'd leveled a gun at her. She only turned her head a fraction towards him, however, so he could see only her lips but not her eyes. "No," she answered quietly, and he thought that would be it. Of course that would be it, this was Parker; he hardly knew anything more personal than her first name. She wouldn't tell him anything. But then she added, "I've never… never been in a position where I could care like that about someone else."

Ryan nodded, understanding. "You mean you never met anyone." He'd been there, before Claire.

But Parker shook her head. "I mean I never let myself let go like that." She sounded almost apologetic when she added, "Love makes you vulnerable. People are already vulnerable enough by themselves—and I don't ever want to be vulnerable on someone else's account, too."

"That sounds lonely," Ryan commented, not thinking.

When Parker's dark eyes flew to his, he saw pure fury flash in them for the first time. "Tell me," she snapped sharply, "you with your true love, do you feel any less lonely than I do?"

Ryan shook his head silently, not wanting to get into a fight with her now. Today had been too exhausting already without piling a shouting match with his superior on top of it. "Sorry," he muttered.

Parker looked apologetic, too, when her eyes met his. She spoke softly as she told him, "Carroll will be calling soon, so you… You get yourself together, got it? You know we can't hold him off for long; you'll have to talk."

Silently, Ryan nodded. Since the second Claire ran off, he'd been dreading that call. He knew it would be coming and, honestly, he was surprised it hadn't happened yet. Maybe Joe was further away than they'd suspected. Or maybe he was just biding his time, and waiting for the perfect moment.

Ryan was thankful, at least, that there was no way Joe could know the specifics of what had happened between them. He could guess and taunt and assume but he wouldn't ever know for sure exactly what had happened. It was a small comfort, yes, but it was all Ryan had right now, and he'd learned to take advantage of what little he had.

Parker was still hesitating by the door, and lost in worries as he was, he couldn't help but reach out to her for some assurance before she left. She was really all he had here, he realized. Marshal Turner hated him, Mike was still in the hospital, Jenny was all the way in Miami… He wondered what it said about the trajectory of his life, that the ever-pragmatic Debra Parker was now the one he had to turn to for hope. He almost didn't ask, because he didn't want to hear the truth from her, but in the end, he couldn't keep the question inside anymore:

"How… How long do you think he'll keep her alive?"

Parker looked visibly surprised at the question, but that look disappeared under a mask of concentration as she thought. Trust her to inspect every angle, and take her time, as his heart pounded, waiting for an answer. After a long pause, she finally admitted, "I don't know. You know Carroll better than I do." She glanced over to Ryan, clearly hoping that would be the end of it—but the look on his face said that answer wasn't enough. The look on his face wanted a countdown: a specific day, hour, minute, and second. And the look in his eyes wanted her to say Claire was never going to die. "I think he'll keep her alive so long as you care," she answered softly, struggling to toe the line between a cold reality and a happily-ever-after fantasy. "That's the way it is with bullies, right? They have power so long as you actively care what they're doing and pay them the attention they crave. The moment the spotlight's off them, it isn't fun anymore to—"

"Joe isn't a ten-year-old kid pushing you to the ground on the playground," Ryan interrupted.

Parker didn't ever blink at his gruff voice. "No, he isn't," she agreed quietly. "He's a grown man and he's out there slaughtering innocent people indiscriminately." Her eyes flashed to his, suddenly all-business again: "Look, I don't care if you're doing this for Claire Matthews. I don't care if you're doing it for yourself, or to reclaim your glory days, or to win whatever sick competition you have going with Carroll. Just get your head on straight so we can try to stop him, all right?"

By the time he muttered "All right" in response, she was already gone, but it hardly mattered. The message got across—he hoped both ways—and now it was time to get down to business. As if on cue, as if Joe had been waiting for this moment, he felt his phone vibrate in his jacket pocket. He didn't bother looking at the screen, knowing the number would be blocked. And he didn't bother alerting the others, knowing the call would be untraceable. He just shut his eyes, sank down to the floor, and put the phone to his ear.

Joe's familiar and deceptively smooth voice greeted him at once, with a quiet _Hello, Ryan _like usual_. _He sounded extremely pleased with himself, and in the dark behind his eyelids, Ryan could picture Joe smiling as he began,_ You will never guess who I have sitting across from me right now._

. . .

. . .

**Author's Note**: Gotta say, I actually was pretty surprised Ryan said it back when I first watched this episode. Obviously I loved the scene, but what I loved most about it was that you think he's rejecting her at first (which is where I got the idea for this story). In reality, he's warning her—and is right to do so—but I still love the fact that there was this moment of panic of, _Is he actually not going to say it? _before he says it. Well played, show. For once.

Reviews would be greatly welcome!

Thank you for reading!


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